


blue and black all over but you know we're gold

by arrowsanonymous



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Fluff and Angst, Hypothermia, M/M, ONE DAY. ONE DAY I WILL WRITE A NICO TARTARUS FIC, Panic Attacks, Post-Tartarus (Percy Jackson), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, not me looking up how to deal w hypothermia on wikipedia smh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26751253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowsanonymous/pseuds/arrowsanonymous
Summary: the aftermath of going through tartarus, for nico. will is there to help. he always is.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 22
Kudos: 89





	1. hold on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DrakonNightengale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakonNightengale/gifts).



Will wakes up in the middle of the night, moonlight sneaking in from the half-open curtain, a sliver of it highlighting the messy bed. He can feel his limbs stuck in the sheets and tangled with the blankets. The thick, warm fabric deludes him into thinking the other side of his bed isn’t empty, but when he eventually forces his eyelids to really open, he finds that Nico is gone, leaving behind a cold pillow and messy sheets.

He pushes himself up, blinking the sleep from his eyes.  _ Where did he go?  _ Will asks himself, looking around the dark surroundings of Cabin 13 and finding no one.

The door is closed as if it’s never been opened. Nothing other than the fading body heat on the white bedsheets, barely there when Will reaches out to touch it, as if grasping thin air. Slowly, hands and legs still heavy with fatigue, he pushes away from the bed entirely and stands up, bare feet stepping on the ice-cold wooden floor.

Winter seems to have touched Camp Half Blood after all; the slice of outside landscape that Will can see through the window covered with white snow and falling snowflakes. A smile touches his face; though the sun won’t be around for long, he knows that Nico likes winter. Speaking of Nico… where is he?

Silently, Will lowers himself to the floor and grabs his sneakers from under the bed, pulling them on haphazardly. He pulls one of the three blankets crumpled on top of the sheets closer to him as he stands up. Warmth. Warmth is a good thing.

He bundles it up and lifts it in a hug while throwing a glance around the room to find Nico’s jacket, but it seems to either blend in perfectly with the Hades cabin’s shadowy surroundings, or Nico’s wearing it outside. Will knows that it’s one of Nico’s comfort items, so he’ll take the chances and assume it’s been taken already.

Though he’s aware of the chill that must be enveloping Camp Half Blood, and how foolish it is to just walk out into the cold without at least a jacket, Will’s sleep-addled mind completely disregards it.  _ I’ll be fine. _

Opening the door proves to be a challenge with his hands occupied. Will curses Nico’s impulsive actions, going out in the cold like this with possibly little to no warm clothes.  _ What if he gets hypothermia? _ Will thinks, frantically running his hand all over the door to find the knob, mind running over countless what-if scenarios.

Finally, he finds the cold metal handle. Cursing the design of the dark cabin, Will pushes the door open.

Silence greets him, the familiar smell of freshly fallen snow surrounding the otherwise calm night. He walks out, carefully closing the cabin door behind him, and waits for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight’s shine and the bright glare of the fluff. Will scans the vast landscape of Camp Half Blood, trying his best to spot a tiny, dark figure sitting or standing somewhere. He finds nothing.

His instincts compels him to go to the lake, though, the frozen-over and chilly lake where people usually ice-skate in winters. Surely the ice must be thick enough for Nico to go there?

Will let his feet lead him, the harsh, cold air freezing his bare arms and legs. He regrets impulsively going out without proper clothing, but what’s happened, happened, and he focuses on finding Nico instead. Eventually, the shimmering dark surface of the lake appears in his line of vision, but there’s… something  _ wrong  _ with it. The usually glass smooth water seems to be disturbed, ripples forming in the middle of the lake.

He runs forward.

And that’s when he sees it; Nico, in the water, skin as pale as a dead body and void-black hair soaked in ice water. He almost looks at peace, a silent prince resting, but Will knows better.

Nico’s drowned.

Will drops the blanket, hastily spreading it out, and walks into the water. The shock leaves him stunned for a few seconds, but he ignores the painful tingling sensation and swims towards Nico, pulling him to dry land. His body is extremely light, all skin and bones, but Will notices the faint rise and fall of Nico’s chest.  _ Thank fuck, he’s alive. _

The blanket abandoned, Will runs to the infirmary, hands glowing in an attempt to warm Nico’s body. He doesn’t have time to ask for help, though he knows how valuable it can be. As if aware of his distress, the infirmary lights turns on the second he pushes the door open. Under bright lights, the bluish tinge on Nico’s skin is immediately visible. His lack of shivering is also glaringly obvious. “I was right, hypothermia,” Will mutters to himself, gently putting Nico down on the nearest bed. “Moderate.”

He slowly peeled off the soaking wet layers of clothes Nico’s got on. Apparently he didn’t change, just grabbed his jacket, which Will places near the window to dry. Some hesitation clouds over Will as he starts on Nico’s shirt.  _ Oh, gods, I’ll have to take… everything off.  _ The realization hits him like an anvil dropped on top of his head, and he feels his face heat up.

_ Not the time,  _ he chides himself,  _ this is part of the job. Get on with it. _

Will takes a deep breath, knowing that Nico’s time is ticking away as he wastes it with this dumb mental dilemma, and he quickly works on getting him out of the freezing clothes and into dry ones. The infirmary clothes are what he probably should’ve dressed Nico in, but instead, Will gives him his own clothes. He knows Nico doesn’t like the infirmary gowns anyway.

Quickly after finishing that, he grabs a heating blanket and places it over Nico’s unconscious figure. Will’s own sunlight heat seems to help, at least, though Will notices its draining effects on himself. Heating blankets aren’t as efficient though better than nothing.

After that, Will looks around the room.  _ I’ll have to feed him ambrosia…  _ though as he glances at Nico, it might be a choking hazard instead. So, Will opted for one of the nectar-infused IV fluids, quickly warmed by a five-second grip with his hands, and set up the drip. Sleep and panic has addled his mind, he knows, and he worries that he might’ve been too slow.

The blue tinge on Nico’s skin seems to dissipate the second Will carefully steps back and watches a drop of the intravenous fluid travel down the tube and into Nico’s arm.

_ Thank the gods,  _ Will thinks, exhaling, falling into a chair beside Nico’s bed. There’s nothing else to do but to keep watch and wait until Nico wakes up now. In his sleep, Nico’s always seemed more peaceful and young, the frown between his eyebrows gone, his dark lashes long and contrasting against his cheeks. 

Will wishes Nico would tan, even if just a little. He looks pale and fragile.

As he sits there, examining Nico’s features and keeping an eye on the IV, Will feels his eyelids droop closed. The exhaustion is too strong. Before he knows it, he’s fallen asleep right on Nico’s bedside.


	2. for us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it still seems like running away from the topic is the best option.

Sunlight streams in from the windows like last night never happened. Will opens his eyes, faintly registering the ache in his limbs and back, and immediately looks towards Nico’s direction. His face looks way less pale than it had when he’s in the river, and Will let out a breath. He’d looked so eerily like a ghost, Will feared he might just be one.

 _He’s not awake, though…_ Will observes, looking around the room. _Must be around six A.M._

Weirdly, no one’s out and about yet, not even Chiron, who’s usually the early riser, or the other Apollo kids who are usually up at first light because Apollo is a jackass and he always blasts _Yellow Flicker Beat_ by Lorde every time his chariot passes by. Like, we get it, Dad, she’s your child.

 _Oh, right. He’s mortal now._ But that doesn’t explain the dead silence of the camp.

Will glances at the almost-empty IV liquid bag, still hooked to Nico’s arm. Nico has stayed still throughout the night, but if Will’s internal clock is right (it always is), then it’s only been three hours since the IV drip has been administering nectar and other liquids Will can’t be bothered to list one by one at the moment into Nico’s veins. Which is, admittedly, not very long.

He decides to ignore the fact that Camp Half-Blood is basically dead and gets up, ignoring his protesting limbs. Sleep is still heavy on his eyelids, though Will is used to sleepless nights, and he tries to rub it off.

Of course it doesn’t work. Will disregards it anyway, pushing his chair back with a loud scraping noise that made him flinch and instinctively look at Nico just in case it’s disturbed him, sighing when it doesn’t. _I’m so jumpy today,_ Will thinks, rubbing his forehead as he realizes a pounding headache has been building up for gods know how long.

Looking towards the IV cabinet, Will wonders if it’s even safe to leave Nico alone here for an hour so he can ask Dionysus about his boyfriend’s suspected condition. A god’s answer must be a safe bet, right?

Will walks over on autopilot and replaces the empty bag with a new one, runs the routine checkup he’s done countless times before on various demigods who’s gotten stupid and serious injuries, and hesitates at the door. He’s not supposed to leave Nico, is he?

He does, hopefully for the last time.

The sun’s not shy and in hiding anymore like it was just half an hour ago when Will just woke up. It’s turned colorless, blinding, and hotter, illuminating the vast expanse of Camp Half-Blood with bright white light like a scene plucked out of a movie. Ethereal, dramatic, and Will feels weightless as he walks towards the Big House’s baby blue walls. It _really_ does feel like he’s starring in a show, everything vibrant like it’s been recolored.

“Solace,” Mr. D greets without even looking up from his pinochle cards. “You missed the field trip.”

Will stops just before he steps on the first staircase. “Good morning, Mr. D,” he says carefully, “What field trip?”

The god sighs and throws his cards down on the table, then looks up towards Will. “The strawberry harvest. Why did you come here? Woke up late?”

Silently, Will moves up the stairs. He takes this as a sign to explain Nico’s situation, though he must admit, it’s foolish of him to forget about the harvest. Hadn’t Nico been excited, when Mr. D had explained that he’ll keep the strawberries alive so if Nico’s powers went haywire, nothing will go south? How could Will forget? “It’s about Nico, sir. Nico di Angelo.”

Mr. D nods. “Son of Hades,” he says, swirling around Diet Coke in a goblet. This looks unreal still, Mr. D sitting at the wooden table alone, light greyish-brown floor and all illuminated by the sunrays. “Your, ah, significant other. What about him?”

“He’s been having nightmares. Nico told me it’s common for him, but it’s gotten worse ever since he went through…” Will gulps, “Tartarus. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I think he sleep-walked last night… because I found him in the Lake, um, drowned, unconscious. It’s why I didn’t wake up early, sir. I was in the infirmary, and I’ve left him there for the time being.” He looks back towards the general direction of the building, feet rocking back and forth from the tiptoes to the heels nervously. “I think he might have severe PTSD, though I can’t be… sure. I heal wounds, I can’t stop a mind from breaking.”

Will forces himself to focus, to look at Mr. D as he speaks. “You want me to check his mind.” It isn’t a question, but a statement.

 _Do it. Say yes._ “Yes, sir, I’d like to ask for your help in hopefully help Nico recover.”

“Got me on a good day,” Mr. D sighs, getting up from his chair. “Lucky I like him. Lead the way, Solace.”

Relieved that Mr. D’s agreed, Will starts walking back to the infirmary. He knows that with Mr. D, he’ll try to heal—or help—every demigod he can, even with his indifferent attitude, but sometimes… with long-term “projects”, Will’s learned to ask as politely as possible. It’s always better that way.

They eventually arrive at the infirmary, but this time, Nico is awake. Will’s oversized T-shirt hangs off one shoulder, but Nico quickly pulls it up as soon as he spots them.

Will wants _so badly_ to just run up to him, hug him, and burst into tears out of sheer relief. His brain is fried, all medical training and professionalism gone, but he manages to settle for patting Nico’s hair. “Hi, welcome back to alive.”

Nico manages a weak smile, then turns towards Mr. D. It seems like he’s observed the infirmary while they were gone. “What happened?”

“You drowned, apparently, while sleepwalking,” Mr. D says almost lazily, still holding the goblet. “That checks out with what Solace’s got going on here. I’m no doctor, but Apollo never shuts his trap about how to treat someone with hypothermia. Snow was heavy last night, too, though it’s gone now.”

A frown forms between Nico’s brows, his worry lines coming back again, so out of place on a face so young. “I was… dreaming about… a river. I… didn’t know it wasn’t just a dream.”

Mr. D pulls a chair out of nowhere and sits down, ignoring Will, who’s busy gathering food from around the infirmary. “Dreaming?”

“It was…” Nico looks down on his hands, one of them kept as flat as possible because of the IV needle in it. “It was a nightmare. About Tartarus.” His voice is small now, like glass that can shatter at any moment, and Will just wants to wrap Nico in a blanket and gently place a _Fragile, handle with care_ sticker on his forehead.

He can feel that Nico wants badly to stop talking about this and bury it away in his mind and continue drowning every night, but _gods,_ he’s tougher than Stygian iron, and he continues. Mr. D is silent, listening to everything. “You know the… rivers? They were chasing me _e per sbaglio ho fatto cadere la mia spada in uno di loro e ho dovuto entrarci dentro per riprenderla ma era il fiume di fuoco e mi ha bruciato..._ ”

Mr. D is still listening intently.

Nico continues, taking a deep breath. “ _Mo_ … but I could breathe after that and the monsters just disintegrated... after trying to follow me in.”

“Your dream… you were back in that scenario?” Mr. D finally asks, with a grave seriousness that takes Will aback. He doesn’t know whatever Nico’s said when he slipped into another language—Italian, it sounds like—but it sounds concerning.

A subtle nod from Nico seems to be the only thing Mr. D needs to get to work. What he’s doing, Will isn’t sure, but it seems both divine and time-consuming, so Will goes back to shaking out honey cornflakes from its box and into a bowl. _He eats cereal dry…_ he lists in his head, _I’d have to get pasta somehow in case he’s still hungry, though he doesn’t eat much… and water… where’s the water?_

“Well, it seems like Solace is right,” Mr. D sighs, shocking Will out of his semi-trance. Will lifts his gaze from the glass of water on his desk to Nico and Dionysus. Nico seems somewhat resigned. “PTSD, Nico di Angelo. Talk to me again later when you’ve eaten.”

The god leaves in a swirl of vines, IV drip gone, a plate of pasta appearing at Nico’s side. Will instinctively picked up the pack of cotton and medical tape.

Nico looks up towards Will. “May I have a fork, please?”

Will pulls one out from the open cabinet near him and walks closer to his boyfriend, handing it to him. He sits down on the now-vacant chair, carefully patching up Nico’s wrist. “I’m so glad you’re conscious. Eating. Saying _may_ and _please_.”

“I say _may_ and _please_ all the time,” Nico jokes, managing to smile a little. Apparently a silent pact’s been made; ignore whatever the fuck just happened. It’s pasta time. He digs into the creamy plate and tilts his head. “I have manners, you know?”

“Of course,” Will replies, and they laugh again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH TO SEAL (moodyseal) FOR HELPING ME OUT WITH THE ITALIAN!! icon 11/10, we stan. the translation is: "and I accidentally dropped my sword into one of them and I had to dive in to get it out but it was the fire-river and it burned me"
> 
> yes i could not be fucked to remember how to type the name of the fire river. what is it anyway?? plegethon or some shit


	3. for love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> healing is a long process, especially healing wounds that can't be fixed with nectar or ambrosia. will knows that to be there with nico every step of the way, he can't be.

To Will’s surprise, Nico manages to finish his food. In under an hour, no less, plate and bowl both empty of cereal and pasta respectively.

Apparently, Nico had stacked the dishes neatly, judging by a tidy pile of plates and bowls and eating utensils being on his infirmary bed. When Will comes back bearing clothes and a towel that belongs to his boyfriend  _ (as much as Will likes how his shirts look oversized on Nico, it’ll look stupid in public)  _ he almost laughs at how  _ domestic  _ everything seems. If not for the medical supplies, Will can almost believe it’s their own college dorm, or something of the sort.

He shakes his head and places Nico’s folded clothes on the bed, beside the plate and the bowl. The sheets are relatively smooth and tidy, and Will has to admire the fact that Nico cleans up after himself. It’s always been obvious from the start, but it never ceases to amaze Will.

The sounds of shower water hitting the tiles from behind the infirmary bathroom’s closed doors tells Will just where Nico’s gone. Will knows that ever since the time Nico spent homeless, he always takes showers daily. He really likes being clean.

Will glances at the bed again as he sits down on the desk and starts writing a note for Nico to rest for a while. He knows that some sort of half-hearted argument might ensue, but as unprofessional as it might be, Will is both the camp medic and Nico’s boyfriend. Time alone doesn’t sound terrible, especially because they’ve only been able to steal little slivers of quick kisses and a silly movie before one of them falls asleep. At camp, the schedule’s been demanding, though Will now knows it’s not just the Camp Half Blood activities.

“Will,” Nico’s voice says, barely audible through the bathroom door. “Are you back? Is there a towel out there?”

He jerks out of his dazed state and nods before realizing that Nico can’t see him. Will turns towards the door and half-yells, half-talks, “Uh, yeah, of course! I just got you clothes from your cabin.”

There is silence from the bathroom and from Will as he resumes writing the note, then Nico’s voice filters through the door again, though more nervous and quiet this time. “Could you… um… give me the towel?” The bathroom door opens and Nico pokes his head out, hair soaking wet and beads of water sliding off his shoulders. He outstretches a hand, cheeks tinged slightly pink. “Please?”

Will laughs, walking towards the bed and tossing the black, fluffy towel to his boyfriend’s waiting palm. “Did you forget that you needed one of those to dry off, or were you planning to shake the water off like a wet dog?” he asks as Nico retracts both his hand and head back into the bathroom like an arcade whack-a-mole game.

“I almost died, I have a pass to forget some things!” Nico’s muffled voice replies indignantly, which just causes Will to laugh harder. It’s been a heavy couple of weeks, and it feels nice to be able to let loose and laugh for once, even though the topic of last night still looms over them.

The door opens carefully, and Nico’s head pokes out again—almost comically this time. Before he can say anything, Will gestures at Nico’s infirmary bed where the clothes are on, then pointedly looks down at his half-written doctor’s note, trying to ignore his warm cheeks. Though the rest of camp may think they’re up to no good, just trying to steal time away, most of what Will writes is true. Nico… he won’t admit it, but being near Will helps him keep his powers under control. It’s hard, not having proper training. But camp’s been busier than ever.

_ Where was I, again?  _ Letters and words on the page blur together as Will’s vision goes out of focus.  _ Concentrate. It’s not hard _ .  _ Have you eaten? _

_...No.  _ In Will’s worry for Nico, he’s completely forgotten to take care of himself. Everything seems vaguely there, dreamlike, and he feels like he’s underwater. Submerged in dreams and nightmares.  _ What was I doing? _

A hand taps his shoulder carefully and he jerks out of his reverie. “Hey… Will, this was on my bed. I think it’s for you,” Nico says, cheeks still rosy, holding a bowl of what looks like soup, complete with the steam coming off of its surface. Will quickly clears the table to let Nico place the hot bowl onto the wooden surface, and Will squints at it as the scent of ripe grapes washes over him.

“Thanks. Was there a note?” Will asks, picking up the spoon. “Because I  _ absolutely _ refuse to believe Mr. D did this.”

Nico handed him a note. “Yeah, there is. It says that Mr. D actually  _ did  _ do this. I guess he’s full of surprises, huh? Who would’ve thought? But then again, he  _ does  _ call us by our names.”

Will nods and stirs his soup, letting more steam escape before he starts eating it, as per the note’s instructions. He puts the spoon down to let the soup cool a bit more before saying, “I think Mr. D just likes you more than everyone else.” 

Nico laughs, enough to make Will put down his spoon and join in. “That would make sense,” Nico admits. 

The wound on his wrist where Will administered the IV fluid last night has been bandaged neatly, and Will instinctively reaches out. “Let me heal that.”

Under his touch, Will can sense Nico automatically tensing and jerking his hand away as if waiting for an attack. Though it doesn’t last for long—it  _ is  _ still enough to make Will hesitate—even if just a bit.  _ Just how much has he been hiding from everyone?  _ Will asks himself.

“Y–yeah. Sure. Only because you haven’t done it in a while.” Nico exhales and offers his wrist again, but the tremor in his hand is unmistakably present no matter how much Will tries to look away as he peels off the neatly applied bandage and brushes a thumb over the wound as he mumbles a simple hymn. The laughter’s long died. It feels like Will’s fault.

The fatigue and dizziness that sets in doesn’t affect him as much with the sunlight filtering in through the open infirmary windows, but it’s enough to worry Nico, who immediately holds his shoulders gently, the grip steadier this time. “Shit, Will, I—are you okay?”

Will nods. “Don’t worry, you know how it is.” He glances upwards to meet Nico’s eyes, dark like the night but twice as warm, and brushes off a coil of damp hair stuck to his cheek. “I’m just out of practice.”

“If you say so,  _ doctor _ ,” Nico says sarcastically, pulling a chair closer to the table and sitting down next to him. He softens his tone. “As much as you like to lecture me about shadow traveling, you overdo it yourself, you know.”

No matter how much Will wants to deny that, he knows that his boyfriend is right. They both overdo it—always has, always will. Maybe it’s the life, the decade and scattered years here and there that they’ve lived through so far, adulthood always treated like an impossible goal to reach. Maybe it’s because they both know they’re going to die young, and… while Will and Nico are both here, might as well  _ burn bright. _

“Yeah. I know.”

They fall into an easy silence.

It hasn’t been like this for a while. Camp demands them to be constantly on the move, and Nico is restless as it is. Training’s hard when all Will has time for is antidotes and burning through the nectar-ambrosia stock—he sleeps at the infirmary most times, or in Nico’s cabin after the Apollo doors lock. Exhaustion seems insistent on invading every aspect of Will and Nico’s relationship, because one of them always falls asleep when the other’s trying to make conversation or enjoy time together.

Well, they’re here now, and Will’s determined to make it count. In their bubble of tranquility, the silence that daytime brings broken only by the clink of metal on porcelain, it almost feels like time’s stopped just for them.

He doesn’t realize how hungry he is until the soup’s almost gone, and Will looks up from his food to Nico. It’s as if only seconds have passed, but Nico’s pulled out a book and started reading as he waits, and the read pages pile up high.

“Finished?” Nico asks absent-mindedly, attention half on the book and half on Will. “If you’re still hungry, we can get more food—”

A shake of Will’s head answers the question, and Nico grabs a piece of paper as the bookmark for the novel. He carefully places it back where he found it—on the stack of books on the desk—and then runs a hand through his dark hair.  _ Is he nervous? Mr. D  _ is _ kind of intimidating, but Nico’s not affected… right?  _ Will wonders.

Nico seems almost unwilling to leave the infirmary, though he’s fully dressed in his ripped black jeans and an equally dark t-shirt. His eyes dart around the room, and Will reaches out to hold Nico’s hand. “You look kind of anxious. What’s wrong, babe? Are you still feeling weak, or anything?”

Crimson tinges Nico’s cheeks at the pet name, and despite Will’s worry, he can’t help but smile as Nico tries not to choke on air. “That’s not—I’m fine,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. “You always catch me off-guard. I just... never thought I’d be the camper Mr. D has to... help.”

Will wants to joke around with Nico the way he does to take a hurt camper’s mind off their injury. Reassuring  _ Nico _ , though, takes a different approach… Will’s tone becomes more serious, and the smile drops. “Nico, everyone in this camp needs Mr. D’s help. I think he knows it. Don’t be ashamed of needing it, okay?” He brushes off another stray strand of hair from Nico’s cheeks and leans closer to whisper, “May I? For luck.”

Being this close, Will can see Nico’s slightly parted pink lips, his long eyelashes as he blinks and it catches the light, the irises that stays a rich, dark brown even under the sunlight, and the slightest nod of Nico’s head before Will moves forward and plants a quick kiss on his lips, grinning widely immediately after he pulls back. “Better?”

Nico nods, but the worry in his eyes are still there. “Maybe.”

This time when Will leaves the infirmary, it’s with Nico by his side. Camp is still silent and calmer than it should be, but the chatter from the strawberry fields assures him that every camper is enjoying themselves.

In this sunny afternoon, the smell of strawberries is even more potent than when Will first woke up, and the rays from the sky are more pleasant than hot. If Will just focuses on Nico’s hand in his… it feels like a casual walk around camp on a Camp Half Blood’s winter day. Those strawberries never die.

But it isn’t. And they both know it. Will can feel the anxiety pouring off of Nico in waves, even though he appears calmer.

“Do you want to be there?” Nico asks out of nowhere, the Big House looming over them even though it’s still far away. “I… I just… it feels like I’m a fraud. I don’t like talking about this at all… and I don’t want you to...” he trails off, seemingly struggling with the words.

Will places a hand gently on Nico’s shoulder, and they both stop walking. “If you don’t want me to be there with you, I’ll leave. But... Nico, I’m a medic. I’m not going to think less of you because you need help. Vulnerability, love, trauma, they’re not something to be ashamed of. And I’ll remind you of this every day if you need me to.”

There is defiance in Nico’s eyes towards the wrong person, but the fire dies instantly. “Don’t,” Nico whispers, breaking eye contact but still not moving, unnaturally still. Quiet as he is, his ADHD compels him to be in constant motion, but now… he stands silently, completely still.

He looks as if he wants to complete the sentence, and he  _ does  _ try to. Instead, though, he changes course and instead mutters a  _ “don’t waste your time with me,” _ before tearing away and jumping underneath the nearest tree, shadow traveling away before Will can even object.

Now Will is alone again, standing in the vast expanse of a warm, sunny midday in the middle of winter. Despite his body telling him to run after Nico, convince him he’s not a waste of anybody’s time, Will chooses to respect Nico’s wish of facing Mr. D alone even though he knows better. Healing is a long process that can’t be forced.

Will turns away from the Big House, and starts the long walk to the strawberry fields.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtf this was supposed to be a 3 chapter fic........ shit is NOT going as planned yall plz send help aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa also if yall read this ao3 hates me this is my 3rd attempt at uploading this yes ik this is almost 2k words of filler content im sorry but LET ME UPDATE also ill try to wrap it up in chapter 4 bc im running out of titles. NIKI why do u do this to me . if there's nothing left... slaps but like i need more titles pls
> 
> oh also potential tw for religious trauma in the next chapter because we are projecting loves


	4. dear love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> none of them are really ready. they shouldn't have to be, at this age.

“Solace’s not here,” Mr. D notes as Nico materializes in front of the open doors. He looks up from the Coke goblet to Nico, and the gaze just intensifies Nico’s anxiety. “Did you tell him to go?”

Nico nods jerkily, hand shaking from the reckless shadow travel done after a near-death experience. He thought the Athena Parthenos would’ve strengthened his shadow traveling, but it didn’t. “Will doesn’t need to know anything more than what he already knows.”

A shrug and a wave of Mr. D’s hand, and Nico steps into the foyer of the Big House, then to the parlor with the ping-pong table. It’s cooler inside, the temperature dropping even though not by much, and he feels slightly grateful for it.

The table is oddly empty without pinochle cards or scattered Coke cans, and the House is strange without Chiron or anyone else around. Nico feels grateful for the privacy, though, enough to tamp down his growing unease. Pillars of sunlight do nothing to help cool down the temperature, and though they  _ are  _ marvelous to look at, glimmering dust particles and all, it really just reminds him of Will’s absence.

Mr. D notices the anxiety lingering around Nico and sighs. “Di Angelo, I’m not going to smite you. You seem like the closed-off type and I thought being alone would suit you better.”

“I—I know,” Nico says, caught somewhat off-guard before regaining his manners. “Thank you, um, sir, it does. I’m just wondering why exactly I was supposed to meet you.”

“ _ Sir _ ,” Mr. D remarks, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Have a seat, unless you were planning to stand there for hours?” he asks.

Nico opens his mouth to respond, decides to close it, and, as dignified as he can, scrambles to the nearest chair. Everything about this is new to him. Nico instantly regrets not letting Will come with him—the comfort, the subtle touches and hand squeezes—it seems like silly things to long for.  _ Suck it up, di Angelo _ .

It’s obvious for the both of them how nervous Nico is, but Mr. D spares him the embarrassment by ignoring it and instead gets right into the point. “I’m no Apollo, but I know trauma when I see it,” he states bluntly. “You need to talk about it. Are you ready to?”

He  _ shouldn’t  _ be shocked at such a plain question, and yet the heat of the sunlight dissipates immediately, and Nico wishes the weight of his old jacket is here all over again, something to hide him from the world. “I have to,” starts Nico, trying his best to keep the tremor in his voice hidden. “So—so might as well do it now.”

“You can tell me to stop at any time. The human consciousness is terribly fragile, and I’m not here to push you  _ into  _ insanity,” Mr. D says, his voice bored and disinterested despite the words. “Do you sleep  _ at all  _ when Solace has to pull an all-nighter for a camper?”

Despite Nico’s mind telling him to say  _ yes _ , the true answer comes immediately to his tongue. “No.” Better not to lie to a god.

Mr. D nods. “The honesty helps, di Angelo. I’m just as eager to wrap this up as you are. Do you remember anything from the jar?”

_ The jar.  _ For no particularly clear reason, Nico remembers small, red seeds. Something red… “P–Pomegranates.” He doesn’t want to elaborate. What he remembers feels hazy and dream-like, as if watching himself slowly, slowly…

Silence, the oppressive kind that weighs on you because you know something’s expected of you, descends upon the room.  _ What am I supposed to say?  _ Nico feels trapped. It was just one word, one stupid word, and he feels like his entire world is crumbling in. His throat hurts.

Mr. D sits there, quiet, and then sighs. “You’re not ready.”

* * *

The sun burns the back of his neck. It  _ really  _ shouldn’t burn, it should tan, but apparently luck isn’t on Will’s side today. He chews at his lip, hands in his pockets, zoning out while staring at the distance. All around him, the chatter fades out to a blur, and Will stays standing in this state for gods know how long before someone taps his shoulder.

“Are you going to just stand there and do nothing?” a voice asks him. It sounds familiar, someone he’s heard talk a  _ lot _ , and Will refocuses his sight before turning towards the source of the words.  _ Kayla. _

He musters a smile, and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. At this rate, Will knows he’s going to draw blood, so he speaks to stop his nervous gnawing. “Yeah. Sorry, I’ll help. Where do I start?” he asks.

Kayla frowns at him. Her green tips glimmer under the sunlight, sparkling every time she moves. “I was joking,  _ Will _ . Clearly, you have something on your mind.”

Will nudges her shoulder lightly, as if to tease her, and grins. Nico can handle himself. There’s nothing much Will can do for him, anyway, not if he wants to get dragged down trying to pull Nico out of his own hellscape of a mind. Today, the sun can burn him, the scent of strawberries can wash over him like water, and tomorrow, he’ll fight again. 

“Nothing, really. I’m just tired. Are you going to fuss over me now,  _ mom _ ? That’s kind of my job.” jokes Will.

“Sure,” Kayla says skeptically, but Will knows she’ll drop the topic. “If you want to talk, I’m listening. If not, then, let’s ask Billie what to do next. She’s calling the shots around here.”

There’s no other choice for Will but to follow her sister, so follow he did. He rarely helps out with the strawberry harvest, because it usually happens in April or May when he’s busiest, but the weather’s been off lately. Mid December and the sun feels like summer. It’s almost as if the environment itself is responding to Nico, uncertain, unclear, and Will shakes his head to clear his mind.  _ Stop worrying about him. _

“Did you catch that?” Billie says, knowing damn well he didn’t. All Will really sees is the glint of her metal buttons on her denim overalls.  _ When did we even get here? _

He wishes that he can stay at one place at a time. Will’s mind wanders involuntarily, and only in high-stakes situations can he focus on the adrenaline rush and the patient he has to treat. Otherwise, his attention flies away with the wind, like a lone aimless ghost. “Sorry, I didn’t.”

Billie sighs, but judging by her crooked smirk, Will guesses that she isn’t actually mad at him. She tugs at her spaghetti strap with one hand and gives Will a wicker basket with the other. “I figured. You know how to pick strawberries, right?” she asks, her nails matching her hair color. “I’m not in the mood to teach you.”

“I’ll tell him how to do it,” Kayla butts in, looping an arm around Will’s. The fabric of her shirt brushes on Will’s skin and it helps ground him, chain his thoughts down, and he reciprocates.

Nodding sagely, Will holds his basket. “I trust the sister.”

With laughter and a shimmer of her gold eyeshadow, Billie sends them off to tackle a patch of plants that haven’t been harvested yet, then she immediately turns her attention to a new camper accidentally making a strawberry they’ve picked bigger than their head.

_ It would be great to have Nico here _ , Will thought, reaching towards a strawberry.  _ It would be great to have Nico. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i look like i know what im doing
> 
> and yea i tried to make this angsty but i physically cringe at the sheer idea of crying so. uh.
> 
> shhhhhhhhh i know this is ooc

**Author's Note:**

> EYYY HOPE U LIKE IT!! there's gonna be 3 chapters dhjghdskjfgsd wish me luck


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